


like the faint scent of bergamots in the morning

by tinygumdrops (curryramyeon)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Love, M/M, Magical Realism, Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curryramyeon/pseuds/tinygumdrops
Summary: Mother crouches down to his height. "Atsumu," she says in a soft tone. "What Osamu was telling us during dinner... was it true?""I wasn't—I wasn'tgossiping!""No, my dear." Mother laughs. "I know. But were you talking to them? The roses?"Atsumu shrugs. "They say hi to me all the time. They're very friendly. Friendlier than petunias. Friendlier than 'Samu. Byloads!""By loads. Right." Mother ruffles his hair.--------Miya Atsumu has always been able to talk to plants ever since he was little. He's not sure how it'll factor in with volleyball, but he thinks he can manage.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 74
Kudos: 1059





	like the faint scent of bergamots in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for chapter 378.
> 
> Hope you'll all enjoy!

~O~

Atsumu comes to know of his special talent when he's seven years of age. His twin brother is the one who alerts the whole family about it: they're eating at the dining table when Osamu complains, "'Tsumu's such a pain to play dodge ball with! He keeps on gossiping with the roses outside. Can you let me play with Satoshi-kun instead?"

All the women in the table perk their ears at this, though Atsumu doesn't notice. He groans and kicks Osamu's hipbone—or at least, makes a valiant attempt in reaching it with his foot. "I wasn't gossiping, you turd! They were telling me to watch out for the rain puddle! Just so that we won't get the ball wet. Who'd like playing with an icky ball?"

"You're an icky ball," Osamu mutters. Atsumu grabs Osamu's shirt sleeve, and it's a wild mess from there. 

Mother takes Atsumu aside once they're done cleaning up. Atsumu already has a gazillion counterattacks at the tip of his tongue. Osamu was the one who started it, Osamu was the one who made fun of the roses Mother's always adored, Osamu was the one who hated playing with him...

Mother crouches down to his height. "Atsumu," she says in a soft tone. "What Osamu was telling us during dinner... was it true?"

"I wasn't—I wasn't _gossiping_!"

"No, my dear." Mother laughs. "I know. But were you talking to them? The roses?"

Atsumu shrugs. "They say hi to me all the time. They're very friendly. Friendlier than petunias. Friendlier than 'Samu. By _loads_!"

"By loads. Right." Mother ruffles his hair. 

Atsumu pouts as he tries to pry her fingers from his locks. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, certainly not!" she says, eyes wide with something Atsumu is too young to name. She's beaming, however, so Atsumu believes her. "This is a miracle. I didn't have it, so I didn't expect... and I have two boys, no daughter..."

"Mom?"

"You're going to have to talk to your auntie and grandma tomorrow. Okay? For now, you should get some rest."

"I'm not tired!"

"Maybe not tonight. But maybe tomorrow you will be. Or the day after that. Don't you want to play with your friends?"

" _Loads_."

"Then you'll have to save those loads of energy for the coming days, darling." Mother tries to ruffle his hair again. This time, Atsumu lets her, basking on the affection. He's sure Osamu doesn't get even half the amount of hair ruffling Atsumu gets from her. "Off you go now!"

When Atsumu tucks himself to bed, Osamu creeps to his side and whispers, "Did I get you into trouble?"

"I'll never get in trouble with Mom. She loves me best."

Even in the dark, it's clear when Osamu rolls his eyes. "Like that's something to be proud of."

They tussle and rip the covers off the _futon_ , but it does the trick. They're sound asleep by the time the clock hits eight in the evening.

~O~

The next day, Auntie Sumiko and Grandma Koeko let him join picking the yellow peaches from their spacious backyard. He holds the wicker basket while Auntie plucks the fruit from the tall branches with her long, bamboo pole. Grandma stands beside him with her walking stick. 

He watches Grandma put a wrinkly hand over the trunk before kissing it with reverence. The peach tree's branches seem to shiver in delight. _We hope you'll like it!_ the tree says. 

"She says she hopes you'll like the fruits, Grandma," Atsumu relays. "She says she made them very sweet."

Grandma's near-constant frown transforms into a wide smile. "I heard," she says. "It seems that I have a very talented grandson. Your heart is very good at listening, isn't it?"

Atsumu blushes to the roots of his hair. It's something no one's ever said to him before. "I think so..."

"Well, 'Tsumu-chan. We can make your hearing even sharper," Auntie declares, wiping the sweat off her forehead. "You can take lessons from us, your grandma and I. How would you like that?"

"I want to play volleyball," Atsumu says, voice small.

Auntie and Grandma look at him expectantly. _What else do you want to do?_ their eyes seem to ask.

Atsumu ponders about it, then asks the peach tree, "Can you play volleyball with me?" Maybe, if he gets to talk and play volleyball with the plants in the backyard, he's not going to sacrifice one over the other, and he'll become the best in both. That's always been Atsumu's goal.

_I can't hold a ball. My branches are too stiff_ , the peach tree says sadly. The nearby vegetation echoes her statement, murmuring, _We don't like balls. It'll squish us!_

In the greenhouse, one of the sunflowers exclaims, her hairy green stems quivering, _But we'll support you, Atsumu-san!_ The rest of the plants blossom in agreement: _We'll support you!_ they all say. _We'll support you!_

Auntie laughs. "My, my. Did you hear that, 'Tsumu-chan?"

"I heard!" Atsumu yodels, pumping his fists high in the air. All the plants in their backyard cheer, and it leaves a deep impression in Atsumu's mind. He doesn't quite like it when people make a ruckus in his peewee volleyball matches, but with his plant friends, he can make an exception. 

~O~

Atsumu's parents enrolled the twins in one of the top schools for volleyball in the Kansai region, so they're on the road for a good majority of their junior high career. Osamu takes the time away from home better than Atsumu, though it's probably more of a testament to Osamu's seeming lack of passion in anything. It's annoyed Atsumu without fail. And most especially, Atsumu is extremely annoyed with his other teammates. No one seems to be taking volleyball seriously, and no one's ever listening to him. Only the oak trees and the begonias and the alfalfas at home do. Atsumu misses talking to them like a shot in the chest.

Perhaps one of the good things that come with being on the road is that he gets to meet new tree and shrubfolk, though they can't play volleyball with him without getting crushed. So instead, Atsumu complains to them with gusto.

"Anyone who can't score with my set-up, I sure ain't gonna set to 'em in the future. I don't get why the coaches don't understand that," Atsumu grouches to the potted figs in the _ryoukan_ their team's staying in. He's watering them with a tiny burgundy spray bottle his father gave him as a present. "They're all scrubs, the lot of 'em."

_Scrubs, scrubs_ , the figs chant. They're quite young, and prone to repeating human words they haven't come across yet. 

"Yeah, _scrubs_ ," Atsumu says. "It means they aren't good at volleyball. They don't care about winning. I _hate_ them."

_Winning?_ one of the figs asks. _Is winning good?_

"Of course. It's the best! It's like..." Atsumu chews on his bottom lip, thinking of an analogy they can understand. "It's like you're getting sunshine after not being outside for weeks."

The figs seem to stretch their thin branches in applause, already liking the idea. _You have to win a lot, then!_

He doesn't need them to tell him that. He's going to drag their sack-of-potatoes of a team into nationals, whether they like it or not. 

...

Eichi-kun, their opposite hitter, nearly misses the toss Atsumu tried so hard to make from behind the attack line. It's a crucial point against Kisei Academy, their long-time rival, so after the match, Atsumu lets Eichi have it, screaming at the top of his lungs about not memorizing the signals and casual play. Eichi runs from the bench in tears, and Yamamoto-san, their skills development coach, pulls Atsumu aside after they have their celebration dinner downtown. 

"You're a firecracker of a player, son," Yamamoto-san says. "But how you deal about your spikers, that ain't the way to go."

"It's the only way to go," Atsumu says defiantly. Eichi might be five months older than him, but Atsumu certainly isn't beyond telling anyone when they're slacking off. Especially Osamu. "We ain't gonna win if we don't score, coach!"

"Atsumu, not all good plays lead to a ball on the opponent's side of the court. That's what I've always said, and you haf'ta remember it if you wanna be a good setter," Yamamoto-san says gently. "In volleyball, it's important to be patient and calm—to look at the possibilities with an open mind. And that means...?" He lifts a shaggy eyebrow at Atsumu.

" _To trust your spiker will score in the end_ ," Atsumu says grudgingly. The phrase leaves a bitter aftertaste in his tongue. Trust, unlike those ridiculous, obligatory Valentine's Day chocolates, is something that shouldn't be given away so easily. Eichi-kun and the others haven't done anything to inspire Atsumu's confidence. He's a strong believer that trust and respect are things you have to earn, as valuable as they are, especially on the court.

Sensing Atsumu's silent scorn, Yamamoto-san clasps his shoulders and speaks in a low voice, "You can't win all by yourself. In volleyball, one can only win by being in a strong team of six. That's why great players adapt. At any level." He adds a slight pressure in his grip. "You can do that. I believe you can."

Atsumu levels him with a stare. "I can do it. I ain't sure if them scrubs can..."

Yamamoto-san lets out a deep, booming laugh; the curtain panels seem to rattle at the sound. He straightens. "You got a fire in 'ya, son. Not everyone will appreciate it, but I do. Immensely." He smiles at Atsumu. "Great players...?"

"Adapt at any level."

"Good, good. Remember that."

Atsumu does. Even after steaming on that almost-missed point during bedtime, he says the words again out loud: _Great players adapt_. He falls asleep to the sound of the ferns repeating it in their tiny, hushed voices. 

~O~ 

During the summer, he spends most of his time in the family lakeside house out in Nagahama. He plays volleyball with Osamu and the other kids in the neighborhood, and when Osamu gets bored or the kids get tired of Atsumu's antics, Atsumu needles his grandmother to take him to the greenhouse. Grandma Koeko's knees haven't been as good, now that Atsumu's fourteen, but her patience and gentleness have not been weathered by time. She meets Atsumu's enthusiasm with little demur.

_Hello!_ the pink and white periwinkles greet, swaying with the wind. They see the mulch in the pail Atsumu's carrying, and they squeal in anticipation. _Food! Food! Thank you, Atsumu!_

"Not all at once," Atsumu says with a chuckle. He crouches and spreads a thin layer over the wet soil. "Am I doing it right, Grandma?"

Grandma nods. She stares with a watchful eye as Atsumu teases out the periwinkle stems so he can prune them with his garden shears; they have been strangling the nearby rosemallow, leaving it struggling to grow. He makes sure to ask permission before cutting, like Grandma always tells him to. 

_It's alright!_ one of the periwinkles says. When he starts clipping their leaves, they all exclaim, _Ow, ow, ow—!_

"Sorry!" Atsumu says but forges on. This is one of the things in plant care that Atsumu isn't happy about, though it's a balm on his skin when he sees the rosemallow's glossy green leaves begin to unfurl. It whispers a muted, _thank you_ to him.

"Plants do what they're made to do," Grandma tells him as they return home from the greenhouse. They walk at a slow pace, but Atsumu doesn't mind, mostly. "They might seem inconsiderate, or even unkind, to us humans. But they know what they are and accept what they are. I believe it's one of those important things we can learn from them. Don't you think so?" 

Atsumu nods. It's such a simple, straightforward way of living that he's grown to appreciate and admire. He'll be as sturdy as an elm and as adaptable as a reed, whatever the best setter is needed to be. And he'll say what he wants and do what he wants—because he's Miya Atsumu.

"It's hard to accept things as they are. But if you listen with your heart, it'll make all the difference." Grandma taps Atsumu's sternum with her bony finger. "The ears are for hearing, but the heart is the best at listening."

Atsumu snorts playfully at her. Here goes Grandma with her platitudes once again. "Yes, Grandma." 

~O~

While his relationship with his grandmother is as bright and uncomplicated as a forest bracken, his relationship with Osamu is as rocky as a ship in the storm. They're not _always_ fighting, unlike most of their teammates would like to believe, but there are a lot of things they don't agree on, and their tussling during high-intensity games is a sight to behold from the bleachers.

After losing the first set in a game against Chiheru Gakuen, Jun Akihiro, their unflappable second-year libero, is sandwiched between the twins on the bench and keeping them from lunging at each other's throats. Not that it makes much of a difference.

"When I said to tighten up on the straight, you fucking _do as I say_ , you useless moron!" Atsumu screams at Osamu. 

Osamu narrows his eyes. "You want me to flatten you, flower boy?" 

Atsumu bristles. "You piece of shit, I ain't fucking _delicate_! Jump to the fucking side! I can take it! And don't think I don't see you holding back on your shot—"

"That's because your toss was _shitty_ —putting it way too close to the antenna—what a lazy fucking play—"

"What did you _say_?"

Hanako, their strong-willed team manager with a mouth to rival the twins, hits them both with a towel. "Pipe down, you two! If you have that much energy to fight here, put it to good use. Battle it out with the opponent on the court, like you're _supposed_ to!"

Atsumu, at least, has the decency to look ashamed. Osamu just looks ahead and says nothing. Asshole.

When the buzzer rings again, Osamu drags him by the back of his jersey and whispers heatedly to him, "Give me the ball and I'll finish it for 'ya, so quit your fucking yapping."

"I won't hold back like you did," Atsumu growls, and when the whistle sounds, he sends Osamu a toss high and far from the net, the kind he knows Osamu likes best. 

He watches in glee as Osamu rips it, the ball hitting the floor with a deafening blow. 

They take the second set and win it 25-14 in the third. 

~O~

Ojiro Aran is a second-year spiker in Inarizaki High's team when Atsumu and Osamu join. He makes the transition to the team easier, being a familiar face. It seems that he's already told the other players about the twins' dynamic; when Osamu and Atsumu would have a go at it in the gymnasium, the members don't even bat an eyelash. 

They also like to poke fun of Atsumu's weird propensity of flooding his and Osamu's shared dorm room with all kinds of flora. To which Atsumu just responds with an eye roll, because at least he gets to wake up every day with red camellias greeting him good morning, making him refreshed and happy and ready to take on the day. His teammates are all just a bunch of lonely assholes, so they can all suck it. 

...

The night after Atsumu gets called up by the U-18 selection team, he catches Osamu humming at the succulents on the nightstand—just like how Atsumu does every morning before leaving for the seven am practice. It's like being hit with a sack of bricks; the sting of betrayal almost leaves Atsumu speechless. Just as he thought that nothing could ever come worse to Osamu admitting he doesn't think of volleyball the way Atsumu does...

There's a singe to his throat, when Atsumu croaks, "You were never going to tell me, weren't you?"

Osamu blinks at him, face carefully expressionless. "S'not like it matters, ain't it, 'Tsumu? I can't speak to them the way you can. The whole flower talking thing—that's all you and grandma and auntie. I ain't no part of it."

"But you can _hear_ them!" His yelling awakens the sleeping dracaenas, and they whisper to him soft, soothing things. _Atsumu-kun, don't be too mad at your brother..._

"Maybe." Osamu shrugs. "All I can hear is just faint— _noises_ , or something." He grimaces. "Whatever they are, I can't make out much. It hurts my ears sometimes."

" _Rude_."

"I'm just being honest! Whaddya want me to say?"

"You should've said something about it, dummy! Grandma would've taught you, too!"

Osamu stares at him with an almost resigned look on his face, and for the first time, Atsumu notices the distance between them.

_Fight back_ , _you moron,_ Atsumu almost pleads.

Whatever strange sibling telepathy they possess on the court doesn't work now. "We may be twins," Osamu mumbles. "But I'm not like you, 'Tsumu."

Atsumu's fists shake at his side. _It's hard to accept things as they are_ , Grandma once said. Maybe sometimes, it's hard. Other times, it's just fucking impossible. 

It's lonely at the top, but for what it's worth, Atsumu has always banked on Osamu being able to keep up with him. But now, there's no telling what will happen. If Atsumu does a no-look toss from the attack line—will anyone be there anymore?

There's still a year and a half left for them to play together, and maybe that's going to be enough for now.

~O~

If he was to describe Kageyama Tobio, he'd say the first-year setter was like a Royal Red African Milk Bush. It's not a true cactus, but it's tall and rugged, with thick, thorny succulent horns, prickly and irritating. It's quite harmful as well— _deadly_ , even, if you don't know how to handle it. 

It's also a kind that basks under strong sunlight. Leave it in places below room temperature, and it wilts. 

Atsumu guesses that's why Tobio-kun is playing out of his mind when he's out with the crazy-eyed, orange-haired middle blocker. The sheer brightness of Hinata Shouyou's presence is truly something to be reckoned with, and in turn, Tobio is free to unleash all his might, without fear of the flame in the court dying out. 

Maybe, just _maybe_ , it's because of Atsumu's ability that he sees the draw immediately. As soon as he witnesses Shouyou-kun soar way above the net, there's a pull he can't ignore. Like a palm tree along the shore, angling towards the sun.

And perhaps it's no surprise that at the end of the match, he tells Shouyou, "One day, I'm going to set for you."

~O~

His first year in the Black Jackals is a test of wills, for both himself and his potted friends. The accommodation the team provides is not at all shabby, but it's a high-rise condominium on a side that doesn't see much sun. He has to bring the geraniums and the succulents with him when he goes out once in a while, or place the maidenhair fern under fluorescent lamps once a week.

One night after their ridiculous outing by the Red Falcons, Atsumu eats dinner on his unkempt bed, surrounded by the chattering peperomias and lilies. They temporarily halt their conversation to make sure that Atsumu's eating well.

_Your leaves look dry_ , one of the peperomias observes. _Look at us! Ours are good and purple._

"I don't want anything purple on my person," Atsumu says.

_You can stand to grow more, Atsumu-san_ , the peace lily says. _Like me. I can grow more._

Atsumu takes a big bite out of his steamed salmon. "You've already grown _too much_ , man." He's been buying new pots every two weeks, it seems. The cashier at the garden house knows him by name already. 

_But you like it when we grow!_ the lily says. _You always have that dopey smile on your face when you lay us out for measuring!_

"Since _when_?" Atsumu questions, flabbergasted. Bits of rice fall on his lap and the linen.

_Every time_ , the plant insists.

"What? No, I don't!"

_You do!_

Jeez, peace lilies sure can get combative. 

~O~

When the tryout results are released, Atsumu can feel himself vibrating in excitement. Once he gets home, he tells all the plants who're awake enough to listen to his ramblings. He even texts Osamu about their team's unfathomable good luck. 

This year—this _season_ —is going to be different. Hinata Shouyou is different. He believed he was going to _be_ , and he did. Everybody else might be surprised, but not Atsumu. He and Shouyou-kun have absolutely next to nothing in common but that unshakeable confidence in themselves. It's a trait he respects in a rival, and one of the things he wants most in a teammate. 

He's going to put Shrimpy to good use and make every opposing blockers' life a living hell. Atsumu can't wait. 

~O~

After years of deliberation, Atsumu finally lets his teammates in his apartment. It's hard to move around, as it has gotten crowded ever since he moved in during his rookie year; there are hanging plants by the front door, in his bedroom, at the rafters in the kitchen. The dracaenas are indifferent to the visitors, but the rest of them welcome the Black Jackals with an enthused yelp.

"Damn. It's like the frickin' _Amazon_ in here," Barnes-san says, staring up at the string of pearls near the trophy cabinet. "What the hell, Miya? You didn't tell us you were into potting and pruning stuff."

Omi-kun shudders at the pot full of loam by the windowsill. "If there are nasty bugs in here, I'm gonna kill you," he grouches.

"'Tsumu, 'Tsumu!" Koutarou-kun points at the bromeliads. The plants murmur a delighted, _Hello there!_ to Koutarou. "What are those?"

"Bromeliads. My mom gave it to me." Atsumu is overwhelmed. He shoves them all to the couch. "All of 'ya stay put and wait for the pizza guy to come or something! I'll go get ya some water."

Of course, there's one guy who won't take Atsumu's well-meaning advice: Shouyou is up and about, _ooh_ -ing and _ahh_ -ing at every shrub he comes across. The flowers croon under his attention, inexplicably happy to meet him. It suddenly smells like springtime in Atsumu's apartment.

"This is so cool!" Shouyou exclaims, eyes settling on the peperomias. He seems to think twice about touching them, and instead proceeds to grin down at them like an idiot. 

_He can't hear us, can he, Atsumu?_ the peperomias hum in disappointment.

_Tell Shouyou we said hi!_ the ferns insist. _Go on! Tell him, tell him!_

Jeez, Atsumu gripes. Such a needy crowd.

"This one's got a chipped stem. And there are leaves missing, I think." Shouyou gestures at the potted zanzibar, who crows, _Hey! Who ya callin' chippy, you punk?_

Atsumu shrugs as he takes out the pitcher and the glasses. "I bought it from the supermarket, probably a month ago. It's been like that since." He had no way of ignoring the zanzibar's feeble muttering when he passed the counter ( _"I ain't gonna last, I ain't gonna last..._ "), so he took him in the already crowded apartment. He hopes that his teammates won't tip off the top brass that he's turned his private lodging into a plant zoo. 

Shouyou's mouth forms an 'o'. "I didn't know you like plants, Atsumu-san."

"It's not something you _have_ to know," Atsumu replies starchily, though he knows he's talking out of his ass. Why did he even let them see this mess, if it wasn't important? 

Shouyou must've sensed the deflection at once: he grins widely, eyes shrinking, and Atsumu hears the aloes and the lilies titter behind him. 

_Warm! Warm!_ they all cheer.

~O~

Shouyou starts visiting Atsumu's apartment with alarming frequency. Sometimes, he's got Meian-san or Koutarou-kun with him. Rarely, Omi-kun accompanies them. Recently, he comes to Atsumu's place alone. He's always got a new kind of potted plant with him. 

Atsumu decides it's time for him to put his foot down. When Shouyou arrives with a fucking _birds of paradise_ on his front door, Atsumu says, "My apartment ain't some kind of plant daycare, Shouyou." 

Shouyou, for the love of all things holy, just blinks at him. "But I thought you liked plants, Atsumu-san."

"I _do_!" Atsumu grabs the birds of paradise from Shouyou's hands. It's big and heavy. He can't believe Shouyou carried it all the way from god knows where. "But I already have so many—it's getting noisy in here."

"Noisy?"

Atsumu purses his lips. "Y-yeah. Their leaves sometimes rustle at night and it keeps me awake."

Shouyou shudders. "With no draft? _Man_ , that's creepy."

"Right. So stop bringing plants in here. I can't take care of all of them and play volleyball at the same time."

The birds of paradise is whimpering about being thirsty. Atsumu pours water on the soil, until the flower says it's full. _Thank you_ , the flower says, and Atsumu whispers a "No problem" back.

"Oh."

Atsumu cranes his neck up. Shouyou is giving him a weird look. "What?"

Shouyou shakes his head, and then shouts, "I have an idea!" He's bouncing on his heels.

"Probably a stupid idea," Atsumu interjects.

"No, it's _good_ ," Shouyou argues. "Hear me out for a second..."

Atsumu hears him out. 

...

It's the _stupidest_ idea Atsumu's ever heard.

...

At their next team meeting, Shouyou's been given the floor to make arrangements for the "flower matching", or whatever dumb name Shouyou christened it with. Every player gets to adopt a plant from Atsumu's place, just so Atsumu could have a little breathing room. It's like having a team pet, Shouyou claims. Except no one has to clean any poop, and that's probably the only good thing about it. 

Not everyone is receptive to the idea (Omi-kun has particularly strong opinions about soil vermin), but they all know there's no shaking off Hinata Shouyou, not when he's already set his mind to do something. Besides, as a team of mostly bachelors, taking in a houseplant _could_ mean something worthwhile. And so the MSBY Black Jackals' players and coaching staff are all assigned an indoor plant they have to take care of for at least a month; Atsumu has to choose the type of plant that'll go well with the person.

This whole thing might be an exercise in futility, but whatever makes certain redhead spikers happy—Atsumu's willing to roll with it. Great players adapt.

~O~

Atsumu comes to visit Shouyou's place for the third time in January—just to check up on the plants, of course. Shouyou took most of the sun-loving plants under his care, and Atsumu, at the beginning, was worried that they wouldn't do so well in Shouyou's tiny abode that has no reliable heating system.

Maybe he should've expected it, but Atsumu couldn't believe that all the succulents and salvias grew _exponentially_ the last time Atsumu was there. Though he's not astounded to hear they all wanted to live with Shouyou for another month. Traitors, the lot of them.

When Shouyou opens the door and lets him in, the first thing Atsumu notices is the way Shouyou's rambunctious hair has been swept back by the wind, the ends curled up like tendrils of a vine. He must've just returned from a morning run. It's only a small detail, something that probably doesn't hold any meaning or importance, but Atsumu is struck by it anyway. 

"Atsumu-san, look! They're growing well!" Shouyou says, his cheeks wonderfully red. He's absolutely preening. 

Atsumu cracks a smile. "Didn't know you had it in you. I totally figured you would drown them."

Shouyou looks mildly offended. "Hey! I wouldn't! I listened to all your advice!" He pauses, then brings out his phone. "I also bought this book you told me about proper houseplant care. See?"

"Hah. You're not gonna make it past one chapter, I bet."

"Maybe not," Shouyou admits. "But I can just ask you, can't I?"

Atsumu coughs and clears his throat, unzipping the front of his tracksuit. It's toasty warm in here for a winter morning. Maybe Shouyou was pulling his leg about the heating system. "I guess you can," he says with a shrug.

~O~

They have a big match against the Paper Mills today. They're up 22-21 after five sets, trying to keep the lead. With Omi-kun out, Barnes and Koutarou have been doing the heavy lifting. Atsumu's attempts to shake off the blockers have sometimes led to a point against them. Mizukawa-san is such a _pest_ to play against.

Thomas groans after pouring water all over his neck. " _Argh_ , I can't score. This _sucks_."

Meian, like the captain he is, laughs out loud and says, "You really flubbed that last shot over there."

Thomas snorts, checking Meian with his hip. "Shut the hell up. I had 'em right where I wanted 'em."

"Yeah, sure, they were all scrambling like pigeons, s'what you say..."

Shouyou stands from the bench. "Put me out there," he says to their coach, eyes glinting hard. "We'll finish it."

Coach Foster turns to Atsumu, scanning his face, before nodding. "Alright, we'll switch it up. Use the corners and make them trip, Hinata-san."

Shouyou salutes him, tongue peeking at the corner of his mouth. 

The buzzer rings again.

It's Atsumu's turn to serve. It's the Paper Mills' home base, and by the time he gets a hand on the ball, boos erupt in the twilight air at Gosei arena. They're all counting on him to shank it—but he's not the team's best server for nothing.

The jeers get louder when he tosses and smacks the ball. He doesn't miss his target—the left sideline, exactly on the white paint—but Washio-kun receives it, albeit shakily. It's coming back to their side of the court. 

Meian gives him a grade-A pass. "Atsumu!" he shouts.

"Aye, aye." Atsumu follows the ball's trajectory. He tosses, and Shouyou flies. 

...

Inunaki-san talks to him after the match. He's quiet in his approach that Atsumu almost jumps when he hears his name called. 

"I might need your help," Inunaki says, holding up pots of wilting begonias.

Atsumu then zeroes in on the flowers crying out a series of, _Atsumu, we miss you!_ and _We're thirsty, we're thirsty! Very thirsty!_

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong exactly. I looked it up on the internet, but nothing seemed useful," Inunaki mumbles sheepishly. "Can you help me, Miya-san?"

Surprise trumps Atsumu's instinct of snatching the begonias and taking back custody. This is a first. In the team, Inunaki-san is one of the guys Atsumu can't hold a proper conversation with. 

"You need to water them," Atsumu says. "I don't think you've been giving them as much as they need."

"Oh!" Inunaki exclaims. He runs back to his stall and pours the contents of his water bottle all over the flowers. 

_Thank you, thank you!_ the begonias chirp in relief, their purple and pink petals opening a little.

After emptying the bottle, Inunaki says, looking eager, "What else do I have to do, then?"

"Uh," Atsumu says smartly. He plonks his butt on his stall. "They don't do so well under so much light, so don't keep them by the window for too long. And if you can get smaller pots for them, that'd be ideal..."

~O~

People now come to Atsumu's locker stall on their own volition, asking about houseplants and pruning and indoor gardens. Sometimes, they talk about volleyball, too. After a while, they start trading valuable information about good places to eat, and bars they can hang out in without the media getting wind of it.

Shouyou's grinning from ear to ear whenever he sees Atsumu talking to the older guys in the team, like this is something he planned from the very start. It makes Atsumu scoff derisively, despite the unnameable flip in his stomach. Whatever. It's not like Shouyou has enough neurons to cook up a ploy as elaborate as this one.

They walk home together, one balmy evening in July, and Shouyou says, "It's simple. I just prefer everyone on our side getting along." He's got his head up, his brown eyes blinking at the inky black sky. "We're a team, aren't we?"

"A fucking good one," Atsumu quips. It must be the right thing to say; he can feel Shouyou's pleasure as easily as he can hear the garden spurge chittering in the crisp, night air.

"We'll win tomorrow," Shouyou says. "And the day after that."

Atsumu marvels at the way his heart thrums at those words. _And the day after that._ "Yeah. We will."

~O~

_You look lovely,_ the philodendrons say when Atsumu comes home, high and flushed after a game.

"Whaddya mean?" Atsumu says, wiping his face with his shirt. Lovely sounds like an icky word. He doesn't look icky, does he?

_We don't know,_ the philodendrons respond. _But you look a lot like in love, so we called you lovely._

Atsumu stops. "Uhh, I don't think that's a thing," he says slowly.

_Really? What a shame._

"I guess," Atsumu murmurs. A wave of warmth floods to his core when he suddenly hears a ghost of a laugh, all too familiar, in the back of his mind. If his skin is going to heat up more than it already has, he'll end up missing the game against the Adlers tomorrow. Calming starflowers aside, Omi-kun would end him, probably.

~O~

It's been a while since Atsumu came to eat in the only Tokyo branch of _Miya's Onigiri_. He came to gloat, once, about being one of the few who's been in the All-Star tournament for five straight years, while Osamu served him tea and New Year's mochi. Now, he doesn't have a purpose. He feels a little off-balance until he arrives at the storefront. The air around him begins to settle.

Osamu doesn't look particularly aggrieved at the sight of him, so Atsumu takes it as a win. The pretty succulents by the windowsill sleepily whisper hello to him, and he whispers it back.

They're short on staff today. Atsumu decides to help, but he's not the best hand in the kitchen, and Osamu barks at him for being a clumsy bonehead with no useful skills in his repertoire except flirting and volleyball—not like it matters much to Atsumu. The store's still standing by the end of the day, at least, so Atsumu counts it as another win. 

When the sun sets, Osamu closes the store early. They drink rice wine and eat _onigiri_. It's a good day.

"'Samu."

"Mhmm?"

"I'm happy." Not _happier_ , or like any sort of comparison in the book. Atsumu's happy, and he just is.

Osamu gives him the smallest of smiles. "I bet'cha are."

"I'm going to tell him."

"Who?"

"Shouyou-kun. I—I'm going to tell him, I think."

Osamu looks at Atsumu like he's the dumbest clusterfuck he's ever met in his life. "What are you waiting for, then?"

~O~

The new volleyball season is in full swing. Atsumu finds it hard to get him and Shouyou alone. He does get to corner him in the locker room after their dull game against the Yokihara Timberwolves. They won 3-0, so he's sure Shouyou's in a good mood. He gets Thai takeout and drives them to his apartment. Along the way, Shouyou belches out the wrong words to a pop song, and the tiny borages in the back seat sing along in their high, reedy voices.

Shouyou shrugs his shoes and coat off, as the bromeliads greet him, _Welcome back!_ Atsumu's positive the other boy can't hear their voices, but Shouyou throws them a smile all the same, radiant as sunshine. Atsumu really likes the shape Shouyou's lips make when he smiles, the way his cheeks redden at the exertion of containing all the joy he feels.

"Hey there," Shouyou mutters softly, thumbing their leaves with a light press. The bromeliads flutter under his touch.

As Shouyou makes it a point to say hi to the rest of the plants in the apartment, Atsumu stands by the doorway to the kitchen, reeling. He's floored by how much Shouyou looks so at home in his place. He'd always suspected it, but it feels weird, having the evidence strutting right in front of his face. 

Shouyou's wearing a soft-looking black cotton sweatshirt and black gym shorts with orange accents. The team's colors. Atsumu jerks his eyes away, throat tight. He can't afford to fuck this up.

They eat the takeouts as they watch postgame highlights. When Atsumu senses the evening simmer into nighttime, he pauses the video, butterflies in his stomach. He's never been this nervous, even for a game. He inhales deeply, quietly. _The heart is made for listening_. His hand itches for something to touch. 

_Go for it,_ the pink roses whisper to him. They've always been supportive.

"Atsumu-san, is something wrong?"

"Not really. I—I just have to tell you something."

"Okay." Shouyou tilts his head. "What is it?" 

"So, about that hobby I have." Atsumu gestures at the living room, at himself. His entire life. "You know. The, er—plants thing..."

"What about 'em?"

Atsumu takes a deep breath, then starts at the beginning.

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
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